Morgue
by MasteringAMuggleLife
Summary: The pain will only get worse. My first Contestantshipping story, please read?


Morgue

Silence. All he remembers is the silence. And after that he draws a blank. Nothing. He felt his head. There was piece of cloth there, taped to his skin. He tries to remember. He thinks the nurse did it when he first came in but he's not too sure. The pain strikes again and he clenched his eyes shut to stop the tears passage. When another strike of pain hits him he burrows his nails into his palms and bites down on his tongue. He can feel blood being drawn but the pain is nothing compared to the hits on his head. Once the pain becomes bearable he allows his body to sink into the fluffy mattress that consumes him like quicksand.

He's lucky but doesn't feel it. He's empty. Something doesn't feel right. Everything feels wrong. He looks to his hands. Blood seeped into the very definition of identification- we're his hands always so big? He turns them over, examining them in detail. They somehow seem alien. Not his.

He's awoken from the drunken stupor by a nurse. The same from before, he thinks. She's a pretty redhead, with dimples and freckles decorating her flushed cheeks. He feels fine until he meets her eyes. He's seen them before. On someone else. They're blue, like the trickling water of an undisturbed river, like the outdoors ceiling on a summers day, like- he can't think anymore as the pain corrupts his train of thought. He looks away. Something about her eyes hurts him. She says things to him that he can't quite digest like; second, injured, deep, sorry. He tries to string them together. They mean nothing to him. The pain strikes again. It's all he's been able to feel for the last few hours and the first thing he remembers. Another pain begins playing his ribs as if they're the xylophone. That's all he remembers till he passes out.

When he awakes there's a doctor at the foot of his bed examining a clip board. He sits up with his elbows to indicate that he is awake. The rustling of sheets catches the doctors attention. Something's changed. The doctor seems... Worried? Upset? His eyes look to the floor as he wanders over to the bedridden teen. He repeats words that echo in female form through his head. It makes more sense. A second passenger? Someone else that was involved in the accident. His breath hitches in his throat. Those dreaded words. She didn't make it. The doctor asks if he wishes to see her, his voice filled his dread. Something inside him jumped- he didn't want to see any dead body. Yet, his mind seemed obliged and forced his head to nod. This seems to be what he man was dreading and hesitantly informs him of the nurse that will be by soon with a wheel chair.

It doesn't take long and the corridors are long gone as he perches in the rough material bent around the metal seat. For the first time since being moved from the comfort of his bed he looks up. The elevators full of mirrors and he instantly wishes he hadn't. He's wearing the typical patient uniform but can see the blood soaked bandages encircling with abdomen though he thin sheet. His bared legs are filled with scathes that engrave deep into his flesh- not that it matters, he can't feel it anyway. His green hair dishevelled and full of ground-in dirt. It looks so wrong but he can't quite pinpoint why. His face is the worst. Pale, very pale. The very definition of a ghost. His eyes are plagued by motion pictures that he can't remember, the very thought causing heavier circles to wrap around his dead green eyes. A large bandage also trapped his forehead, but that too had some dried blood on it.

He feels sick. The nausea builds within him and he starts to shake. Ding! A bell goes off and he sees that they've reached their destination, the bottom floor. The morgue...

He swallows the bile in his throat and strains forward. He debates his decision to come here. Wonders whether he should beg to be returned to the pristine box he was held in before however finds he can't, his tongue swollen below his pallet, immobilising his speech.

They're guided through a few doors and stop in front of a large grey one. It towers over the frozen teen, taunting the boys blindness. He's asked if he still wants to do this. Involuntary, his head nods. Too late to turn back now. He's wheeled inside and left alone. With what little strength he had left in him, he wheeled to the side of the lone bed. A sheet obscuring his view of the morgue's captive. Slowly he reaches and reveals a brunette beauty.

He's more sick than before. His entire body shakes in anger whilst his eyes prick with tear in horror. A palette of emotions hits him all at once. He's not sure whether to scream, or, cry, or just sit there and drown in the overwhelming waves of emotions.

The statue lies on a bed of metal, he hands laid unnaturally at her sides. She's beautiful. Her honey hair flowered around her love heart shaped face. He can count the few freckles she has- seven. She has a few cuts on her face but nothing that could draw the boys attention from the girls beauty. His hand cups her cheek. She's cold and he pulls away instantly.

The whirlpool of emotions is too much for him and he pushes himself to attempt to get up and shake her awake from this horrible nightmare. But he can't. He falls face first and his tears become more incessant.

Try nurse returns, and hurries to his side. He's placed back to his chair and about to be wheeled away.

"Wait." His voice is raspy. Not his own. Shaken by the tear that continued to fall. The nurse takes him back, its the first time he's spoken since he's been here. She wants to help so she agrees to his wish. Once by her side he gently grips her hand and runs his fingers over her paling knuckles. He looks to her eyes and just knows that under her lids would be two wonderfully beautiful two blue eyes- dead. He lets out a shaky breath.

"I wish I knew who you were..." He kisses the top surface of her hand, her skin soft like silk. He puts her hand back in place and pulls the sheet to her chin, tucking her in. He didn't know why but the sight of her made him empty. As though he had no reason left to live himself. Deep inside he knew her, her familiar face and plump pink lips. He knew her, but he didn't...


End file.
